as I call him a second time without a response. Gripping the cold metal knob in one hand, I twist. It doesn’t budge. The door is locked. That’s strange.
The coil of anxiety in my chest twists tighter. Morphs into something akin to fear.
Turning to my bodyguard, I look at his sunglasses, guessing at where his eyes rest behind the dark frames. “Steve?”
“Yes, Miss Cavendish-Holt?”
I lick my lips. “Can you pick this lock for me?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “I’m not authorized to be in the surveillance room, Miss.”
Taking a step closer, I put a hand on his forearm. “You don’t understand. I’m supposed to meet my boyfriend here, and he’s not answering. I’m starting to worry that something happened to him.” It’s the bare truth. I am starting to worry. My instincts are screaming at me that something is wrong.
The man shrugs. “Maybe he’s running late.”
I know immediately that’s not it. Even though Ricardo puts off a laissez-faire vibe, he’s a great student, and he’s almost never late. Whether it’s his nature to be on time or he merely realizes how irritated I would be if he were to keep me waiting, he’s always been prompt since we started spending time together.
My stomach twists as alarm bells go off in my brain. I need to get through this door.
“Fine, if you won’t do it, I will.” I hope. Kneeling, I take my emergency stash of hair pins out of my buttery soft new clutch purse and take a deep breath. I watched Ricardo do this. I can do it. I hope.
“Wait, Miss. If you’re that desperate to get through that door, I can help.” Bodyguard Steve takes the hairpins from me, working them with expert hands. In seconds, there’s a tiny click and the door swings open.
Frigid air brushes over me, making goosebumps pebble my skin. It’s freezing in the surveillance office. My eyes sweep over the interior of the room, and a cry screeches from my throat. Ricardo’s phone has been abandoned on the desk. Its screen flashes with notifications. The desk chair has toppled over and lies on the ground, its back snapped where it hit the hard floor.
The worst part?
Ricardo is sprawled on the tile floor where he fell out of his chair. Eyes clamped shut. Unconscious. And his lips are blue.
24
I fly toward Ricardo’s prone body, but Steve wraps his arm around me and drags me back. “I cannot allow you to touch him, Miss. Let me assess the situation first.”
I shake my head and lunge toward Ricardo again. He’s unconscious on the floor. In need of help. My face pales. He could be dying as I stand here.
Bodyguard Steve’s arm tightens around my waist and he meets my eyes. “Let me do my job, Miss Cavendish-Holt.”
I sag, still fighting the compulsion to erase the distance between me and my fake boyfriend. “Fine. Do something. I’ll call 911.” With shaking fingers, I dig my phone out of my clutch and make the call. My voice trembles as I answer the operator’s questions. No, he doesn’t have any allergies or underlying conditions that could lead to spontaneous loss of consciousness. He’s perfectly healthy, isn’t he?
My bodyguard takes Ricardo’s pulse and checks his breathing. Nods in my direction. Ricardo’s still alive.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but pop them open again. If Ricardo is dying in front of me, I don’t want to miss it. I want this image seared onto my brain.
Once I’m finished with the emergency operator, I hang up. Wrapping my arms around myself, I huddle in the doorway as Bodyguard Steve lifts Ricardo’s arms gingerly and pulls him out of the security room. Standing up, he moves toward the surveillance office.
I don’t wait for permission. Kneeling beside Ricardo, I reach for his face with gentle fingers.
“Don’t touch him,” my bodyguard orders. “He may have come into contact with something that did this to him.”
I frown even as I retract my hands, twisting them in my lap. “I’m not allergic to anything.”
Bodyguard Steve’s face is expressionless, his tone somber. “That’s not what I mean. It could have been a toxin or contaminant that did this to him, and it’s my job to keep you from harm. Don’t touch him.”
My blood runs cold as I stare down at Ricardo. Someone could have done this to him? It didn’t even occur to me until my bodyguard said it, but as soon as he does I know it’s true.
This can’t be an accident. Not after Professor Rook’s death. That video threat